


Emotional Latitude

by zoicite



Category: Being Human (UK)
Genre: M/M, Post-Series, Series 5
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-16
Updated: 2014-03-16
Packaged: 2018-01-15 22:58:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,275
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1322425
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zoicite/pseuds/zoicite
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>If werewolves can stop themselves from attacking, can control themselves and see reason even when faced with a vampire, then what else are they capable of?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

The blood is old. He can taste its rottenness, sharp and sour, but it doesn’t matter. It hits the back of his throat and he tips the flask higher. The contents pour over his tongue, splash against the roof of his mouth, coat his throat, and he swallows desperately, more, more. He feels alive for the first time in months. He _feels_ for the first time in months, but there isn’t enough; it’s over too soon, and he sits there in his room and contemplates killing the humans in the house next door, stepping out in front of a car on the street, pulling the driver out from behind the wheel and sinking his teeth into their neck. 

He shuts his eyes and holds tight to the flask. If he moves now, he thinks he might give in. He’ll leave this room and then the house and who knows what might happen next, but if he can hold it together now, he’ll get through this. He sucks at his own tongue, swallows, and his saliva washes the last traces of the blood down. 

Does he want to get through this? Does he want to come out on the other side shaking and restrained and hiding? If he gives in now –

Tom shouts something to Alex, his voice muffled by the closed door to Hal’s room, and Hal starts and opens his eyes. The flask in his hand is empty, though the glass is still stained red. He tips it onto his tongue and there’s one drop, then another. Hal shudders.

Outside his door Tom and Alex wait and Hal knows he won’t tear apart the neighbors and he won’t stop cars in the street, not while they’re here, not while they’re counting on him. The flask is empty and it’s over and he can enjoy this now and know that there is no more to be had. This is it. He’ll come out on the other side of this shaking and restrained and in hiding and that’s how it should be. This is his prison and that’s what he needs. 

All of that will come later, but for now he has this, blood working at him, prickling through him so that his heart beats with it and his limbs twitch with it. His body thrums with it and he listens to cars pass in the street, to Alex talking to Tom in the corridor. He thinks of the way her eyes shine when she looks at him and it doesn’t matter. It’ll never be anything, but now, with blood in his veins, he can’t help but wonder.

Alex is obvious, easy to understand, to navigate, but then there’s Tom and what Tom did – a werewolf transformed, voluntarily saving the life of a vampire, and Hal can’t help but wonder now what it might mean. He can’t help but wonder what secrets Tom keeps in his inexperienced heart. Hal has never seen anything like it from a wolf before.

He pushes himself to his feet and he feels lightheaded and dizzy. He should stay here. He should wait this out, safe and alone in his room. He should stay here so that they won’t know, won’t guess, won’t look at him with disappointed eyes and downturned mouths. He should stay here so that they won’t threaten him with stakes and tie him to a chair. It’s what he needs, to be tied back in that chair, restrained in this house. It’s the only real answer, but he’s still telling himself he can do it without that. He can do it even with this slip, this taste. He’s strong enough and Leo taught him well. He can do this on his own.

He finds Tom in his room, sprawled across his bed. Tom’s room is an explosion of clothes and books, dishes and cups. Tom seems oblivious to the mess. He stares up at the ceiling, his hands resting on his chest. Alex has left, gone downstairs or up, somewhere that isn’t here. Hal leans against the frame of Tom’s door, stands there quietly until Tom turns his head toward Hal and looks Hal up and down.

“You all right?” Tom asks.

“It’s been a long day,” Hal admits. 

Tom sighs. He’s still upset about Bobby. No one is upset about Ian. Hal presses his teeth to his bottom lip.

“You know that Captain Hatch at the hotel?” Tom asks. 

“Of course.” 

“Well, Alex says he looked right at her, started and turned away as soon as she caught him watching.”

“Alex is imagining things,” Hal says immediately. He doesn’t want to talk about Alex or Hatch or Bobby or Ian. That isn’t why he’s here. 

Tom sits up, his feet on the floor and his hands on his knees. His back is hunched, posture terrible as he regards Hal. “Yeah, I guess,” Tom agrees. 

He should go back to his room. He should lock the door. He should - 

“When you came back for Bobby, when you stopped him from attacking me, did you know that it was me? What did I look like to you through the eyes of the wolf?” 

Tom shifts, uncomfortable.

“I don’t know,” Tom says. “I guess you – you looked like Hal. You must’ve just looked like you, that’s all.”

“How did you stop yourself from attacking me?”

Tom shrugs. “I don’t really remember much about it.”

Tom stands and tries to walk past Hal, but Hal stops him, a hand tight on Tom’s arm. He crowds Tom in the doorway, leans in close and wonders what Tom might do if Hal kissed him. He imagines himself doing it, leaning in. Tom’s mouth is set in a line and Hal imagines pressing his lips to it, pressing Tom’s bottom lip between his own. 

“What are you doing?” 

“I’m trying to talk to you,” Hal says, his eyes on Tom’s face, his mouth, his eyes.

“And I’m talking back,” Tom says. “No reason to get all weird about it, is there?”

“No,” Hal agrees, but he doesn’t step away and he doesn’t remove his hand. “No reason to get all weird.” 

He needs to stop this. If he stays here much longer, Tom will guess. He’ll figure it out. He’s seen this from Hal before and it’s only because Tom’s preoccupied that he hasn’t put the pieces together already. If Hal doesn’t leave now –

“Your hand’s damp and clammy,” Tom notes, though he doesn’t pull away.

“I was doing press-ups,” Hal agrees. “I’m sweating.”

Tom nods, seems to believe the lie. He stands there for a moment, his face turned away, staring out at the carpet in the corridor. 

“I thought you wanted to talk,” Tom says. He swallows and then turns back to look at Hal.

“Yes, I – I wanted to thank you,” Hal says. “If you hadn’t returned to the hotel, who knows what might have happened.”

Tom shrugs again. “You’re welcome,” he says. 

Hal studies Tom’s face. Tom’s still frowning, his eyebrows drawn up. Was this how it had gone with Leo? Did their friendship, did feelings of love, leak over into the wolf then too? If they hadn’t secured Leo to his bed, would he have torn Hal to shreds, or would he have recognized him, spared him just as Tom had done? 

“You looked right at me. You looked right at me and you didn’t attack. A transformed werewolf saving a vampire. Bobby kept coming at me, but not you. You stopped him.”

“Yeah,” Tom agrees. “Yeah, I guess I did.”

“That’s extraordinary, Tom,” Hal says.

Tom frowns. “I came back to help Bobby. I didn’t want to hurt you.”

“You’re getting stronger,” Hal notes. “Even in the last few months, it seems you’ve –“

“I wouldn’t go that far, Hal,” Tom scoffs. “We were just lucky, weren’t we? It could’ve gone a lot different.”

If werewolves can stop themselves from attacking, can control themselves and see reason even when faced with a vampire, then what else are they capable of? 

Tom presses his lips together, stares back at Hal.

Is it just that Tom’s grown with the wolf? Is it the timing and upbringing that grant him this extra degree of control? Or does it require more than that; more than friendship and more than familial bonds? If Hal kisses Tom, will Tom push Hal away, or will he kiss Hal back and answer all of Hal’s questions? Is that what makes this different? Is that what lies at the heart of it? Does Tom have any idea?

And look at him standing here, watching Hal with his face drawn tight. He doesn’t pull away. He stands here, stiff beneath Hal’s hand, as though he’s waiting for Hal to make his move. 

Hal thinks suddenly that he might do it. He thinks that if he stays here, if Tom doesn’t pull away in the next moment, Hal will do it. He’ll lean in and he’ll kiss Tom. He’ll stand here and he’ll tell himself that it’s an experiment, that he’s doing it to learn about Tom and about werewolves, to learn what they’re capable of, how Tom managed something that seemed to go against the very nature of the wolf. 

It should be easy for Hal to convince himself that it has nothing to do with him, but he stands here now and he knows that he’s lying. He’ll push it because he wants to, because he’s curious, and because he looks at Tom, at Tom’s bare arms and his neck and the shape of his mouth, and Hal thinks that he might actually enjoy it. 

He releases Tom’s arm and takes a step back away from him, into the corridor.

There wasn’t enough blood in the flask. It was old and spoiled and it wasn’t enough. He can’t stand here and let himself go through with this. He can’t play with Tom, not when it might destroy everything between them. He’s being reckless and selfish and there wasn’t enough blood in that flask to ignore it, to push forward with what he wants at this moment without thinking about how it will change things tomorrow or next week or next year. He’s been captivated for centuries, alternately fascinated and repulsed by the nature of werewolves, but he won’t turn Tom into an experiment. He wouldn’t do that to Leo, not ever again, and he won’t do it to Tom. 

He should have stayed shut in his room. He should have saved this conversation for another time. He should have kept his questions to himself.

“I’m sorry,” Hal says, stumbling now. “I just wanted to thank you. That was all.”

“Maybe you ought to ease up on the press-ups, mate.”

“Yes,” Hal agrees. “Maybe I should.”

Hal stumbles down the corridor and shuts himself safely into his room.


	2. Chapter 2

The blood floods Hal’s mouth, perfect and new, intoxicating and exquisite. He feels it filling his gut, rushing through his veins, pushing everything else aside. He comes alive as the body he holds to his mouth slumps and ceases its struggle. The man moans, his hands falling away from Hal to hang limp at his sides and Hal sucks at the tear in his flesh. He presses his mouth to the wound, feels the blood drip hot down his chin.

He remembers how desperate he was, how he savored that sip of blood rotting in Rook’s flask, how he clung to Natasha’s thigh, the ticking of his watch; ten seconds, so little, never enough. 

Now there is enough, always (nearly) enough. Now it fills him and forms him and –

“Hal, hurry up,” Alex cuts in. Her voice is irritated, impatient. If he could focus on anything beyond the man in his arms, he knows he would find her arms folded tightly across her chest as she frowns at him from the opening to the alleyway. “We have less than an hour before Tom’s transformation.”

Hal nods, shuts his eyes, swallows a mouthful of blood. She’s right. They don’t have a lot of time.

**

The apocalypse is bad for everyone. That was what Hal said at its start, and it’s turned out to be true, but not in the way that Hal expected. The world is changed, yes; it’s darker and more dangerous for vampires, werewolves and humans alike. The rules have changed, but it isn’t all bad. 

The Devil set up shop at an undisclosed location, wired to the world and flanked by vampires. They’ve lost their chance to kill her (the Devil has moved into the body of a woman now. The last time she appeared on the television she was most definitely a woman). She fans the flames from afar, turning werewolves against vampires and humans against themselves and everyone else. The plan seems to have changed after that first broadcast. It’s less grand now, a slow leak of poison, a darkening of the skies. She whispers through television sets and radios, scrambles the written word, twists hearts and minds and then sits back and revels as her power grows. She’s taking her sweet time, savoring the gradual dissent into chaos, the violence and the mess. Hal thinks he understands her a little better now. He thinks that he might have chosen a similar path. 

He probably should have tried to join her when he had the chance. After all, he’s the reason she’s here in the first place. He’s the reason that all of this is possible, surely that should allow him to jump a few rungs on the ladder, should earn him some perks. It would have been the smart thing to do, the safe and the sure thing. 

He didn’t take that chance. He stood with Tom and with Alex and most of the time he doesn’t regret that. After everything, this is different than it was before too. It’s somehow more honest and yet it’s built on all the same stories, all the same secrets and all the same lies. He pulls them close and then he pushes, tests their limits and their loyalty and their love, relishes in seeing how far they’ll go. He wants them, refuses to let them go, but can’t help trying to discover how far they’ll bend just the same. He wants to watch them curdle just a little, but never rot. And they do, they curdle for him; they bend beautifully, but they never break. 

The new rules are that there are no rules. Their secrets are out and everyone knows. They know and the humans don’t want the likes of Tom and Alex on their side. They don’t want the likes of Hal. The churches are full and they’re run by the Devil pretending to spout the word of God, that slow and steady leak of poison. The humans are sharp and armed and a lot of good it will do them all in the end. 

But the blood flows freely and Tom and Alex allow it, turn away and barely say a word. No, it definitely isn’t all bad.

Hal releases his victim, lets the man fall to the floor of the alley, listens as his head hits the pavement with a sick and heavy thump.

“Is this good for you?” he asks the air. 

**

“Better?” Alex asks as soon as Hal emerges from the alley to stand with them on the street. 

“Much,” Hal agrees. He can feel wetness on his chin and he wipes his hand across his face and then sucks the blood from the side of his palm. 

Alex looks past him, over his shoulder and into the shadows. He assumes that she’s looking for the ghost of the man he’s just killed. She does that sometimes, stands there and waits, watches at they walk through their doors.

“What do you think would happen if I went with them?” she sometimes asks. “I could do it, couldn’t I? Just follow them in?”

“Would you?” Tom asks, and she reaches out to touch his arm, slides her hand down until her fingers thread with his. Her hand holds tight to Tom’s, but she ignores his question and waits for Hal’s answer.

Hal’s response: “I imagine the other side might spit you right back out.”

She understands it as an insult and she pulls a face, but she never tries it. She’ll never leave while Tom’s still here. Until then it’s all just speculation, but she still tries to watch. It doesn’t matter now; she won’t see anything. The man wasn’t dead when Hal left him, not entirely. He’s nearly there, but they don’t have time to wait for that last breath. They’ll be gone when his heart stops and his ghost will walk through his door unobserved.

Alex turns back to Hal. “There’s blood on your shirt,” she says. “I’ll never understand you vampires. After 500 years, you’d really think you’d have this down by now. The films have it so totally wrong.”

“You were rushing me,” Hal points out in his defense. 

“Come on,” Tom sighs, impatient. He wraps his coat tighter around himself, shifts his weight from one foot to the other and then back again.

Tom’s grown quiet and cold and Hal catches himself worrying that he’s finally pushed them too far. If Tom chooses to leave, then that’s it. Alex will go with him. Alex will advise it, tempt and pull, and if Hal isn’t careful, Tom will give in to her and leave Hal for good. The werewolves are banding together again, forming packs. Hal hasn’t seen anything like it in a hundred years. Of course Tom is drawn by it, tempted. Look at his choices: the wolf pack he’s craved for as long as he can remember or the vampire who –

Hal will get by without them. He certainly doesn’t need them, but he wouldn’t rejoice in their leaving. That’s why they’re here now. It’s time to test themselves. It’s time to determine where hearts and loyalties lie. Hal is ready, he’s full and fueled and loose. He’s – truth be told, he’s nervous. He’s doubting that the plan is a good one. Even now, full of fresh blood, there’s that slight tug of doubt, of fear. If he’s underestimated Tom or Alex –

“Let’s get Tom inside,” Hal says. He reaches out and his fingers curl for just a moment around the back of Tom’s neck before they slide away to grip his shoulder. Tom doesn’t acknowledge the gesture. He pretends it’s less forward, less intimate and less possessive than it is. Hal’s fingers leave a smudge of red on Tom’s skin.

Hal presses his lips together. He scans the empty street, contemplates finding another human, gorging himself on another victim. There isn’t time. There isn’t nearly enough time. He stares at the smudge on the back of Tom’s neck as they walk.

**

The streets are quiet, empty. Most humans are safe indoors, but not all of them. There are those who are waiting in the forests, nets and knives and guns ready, waiting for the moon, for the werewolves that have nowhere else to go. It’s become something of a game. The hunt is a challenge for them, dangerous and exhilarating, and best of all, they can tell themselves they’re making a difference. They’re ridding the world of monsters. 

Alex reaches the door first. It’s dark and heavy, rust filling the areas where paint has chipped away. She knocks and then turns toward them, eyebrows high. If no one answers, she’ll rentaghost in and unlock the doors for them. 

“I been thinkin’,” Tom says. “Maybe we oughta get out of here for a while.”

Alex turns to look at Tom over her shoulder, and her eyes catch Hal’s as she carefully says, “What, like a holiday?” 

Tom shrugs. “I guess. Maybe just like, I don’t know, a break or whatever.”

She pauses, thinks it over. Her teeth work at her bottom lip. Hal remembers how she tasted, her lips on his. How did that work in the Devil’s prison? Who worked out those details, the taste of Alex’s tongue, the salt on the bare skin of her shoulder? 

“Do people even do that anymore?” she asks. “Go on holiday?” 

“The three of us,” Hal says to Tom as Alex starts knocking at the door again, loud raps that drown out Hal’s words. He knows that she chooses that moment on purpose.

“Fuck it,” Alex sighs and just like that, she’s gone. 

The door pulls open to reveal Regus just as Alex appears beside him. Regus starts, does a comical double-take, and then shakes his head.

“You’re cutting it awful fucking close,” Regus says as he pulls Tom inside. He doesn’t dare touch Hal, merely steps aside so that Hal can pass.

“Hey,” Tom says by way of greeting, but his voice sounds distracted and strained. 

“You have to get downstairs,” Regus returns. “You have to go now.” There’s a note of concern in Regus’ voice, a note of fear. Hal understands it and swallows his own.

“Hal needed a liquid supper,” Alex snips. “Much more important than Tom’s safety, apparently.” Her eyes go wide on the last word as she stares pointedly at Hal, accusing. 

Hal smiles and shrugs. “Emotional latitude,” he says. 

She squints at him. “What?”

She’ll understand soon enough. He looks down at himself. “You know, you’re right. There is blood all over this shirt. Please excuse me while I change.”

He smiles at her again and this time she rolls her eyes before she looks away.

Regus checks his watch and then starts. “Downstairs,” he hisses and starts pushing Tom and Alex toward the door. 

“I’ll leave you to it,” Hal says with a wave of his hand as he heads toward his room. With the exception of Regus, the building appears empty. The corridors are quiet and the rooms are deserted. Hal changes quickly and rushes back downstairs. They really don’t have a lot of time.

“Where the hell is everyone?” Hal calls to Regus as he crosses toward the door leading to the cellar.

“The full moon gets them nervous,” Regus says. He checks his watch again. “They’ll be back tomorrow.”

Hal frowns, nods. They don’t trust Tom, and in not trusting Tom it’s become evident that they don’t trust Hal, not entirely. It’s a problem, and it’s one that he’ll have to deal with, provided that he makes it through the night.

**

Hal didn’t go looking for this. It wasn’t as though Hal began announcing his presence as soon as they broke free from the Devil’s prison. He had Tom and Alex and a rather large mess on his hands. Frightened vampires searching for someone to lead them weren’t a priority, and an Old One wasn’t as impressive now that the Devil was in charge. Hal was still apparently better than nothing though, and there were those who searched him out, who flocked and followed, who seemed impressed. What choice did Hal have but to lead?

“It’s a new world,” Hal claimed, his voice sure and firm over Alex and Tom’s initial protests. “Until we learn how to navigate it, there is safety in numbers.”

“I’m not sure that holds true when your numbers are loaded with vampires,” Alex muttered, but she didn’t fight him, not hard enough. She stood there and she spoke back, quips and snaps, but she didn’t fight him and she didn’t leave. 

Tom was quiet and loyal. He seemed to understand that there was no longer any point to the old code. He seemed to believe that they were more vulnerable on their own, that they’d never do any good if they were dead. 

Tom carries stakes and vials of blood wherever he goes. He’s threatened some of the others, but he never comes after Hal, never threatens Hal or tries to take control. Hal thought that was a positive sign, but perhaps it’s a warning. 

Vampire politics are a joke. They’ve always been a joke, but even more so now. Hal agreed to it because old habits die hard, but all of his interest is in Tom, in Alex, and in blood. There is no point to the rest of this. They were better off alone, the three of them. 

He should tell them so, and perhaps he will, but that will come after this. 

**

Tom’s pacing the room when Hal arrives in the cellar. Alex holds his coat in her arms, and she looks like she’s about to leave, to lock Tom in for the night, though Tom has yet to remove the rest of his clothing. Hal enters the room and pulls the door shut, secures the lock. The door shakes under the weight of a werewolf. The walls here are too thin. It’s why the others get nervous, sure that one of these months Tom will break free and slaughter them all. Hal isn’t worried. The walls will hold, and if they fail, then – it’s no great loss.

Tom and Alex don’t catch on until the lock is in place, until Hal slides the key into the pocket of his trousers.

“There,” Hal says. He gestures to his chest. “Clean shirt. A vampire wearing a shirt soaked with blood in the company of a werewolf. What was I thinking?”

“What are you doing?” Alex asks, immediately alarmed.

“No,” Tom shakes his head. “No way. You have to get out of here.”

Hal shrugs and leans against the wall. Alex laughs.

“This is it then?” Alex asks. “Suicide? Really, Hal, I didn’t think you’d –“

“I don’t believe that Tom will kill me.”

“And how the bloody hell do you know that?” Tom asks, incredulous. He grimaces in pain and then pulls his shirt up and over his head. Hal takes a step toward him, reaches out for the shirt.

“You saved me once before,” Hal says. “Don’t you remember?”

“And you really think he’d do it again now?” Alex asks, incredulous, from somewhere close behind Hal.

Tom tosses his shirt onto the floor, rubs a hand over his head and turns away. 

**

Hal spent months ensuring that, should it come to it, Tom and Alex would end him. If Hal slipped, they would put a stake into his heart. It was essential that he could trust them to take the necessary steps. It was why it worked for so long with Leo. Leo never let Hal forget that Leo would stake him if it came to that. By the time Leo got so old that staking Hal was a laughable threat, Hal was docile, domesticated. He was safe.

Hal spent months ensuring that Tom and Alex would be able to do the same, to keep Hal in line until rebelling against them was an unthinkable betrayal. That’s what he told himself. He knew that Tom was good for it. How many vampires had Tom McNair killed? Far more than Leo ever had. Hal made them promise, he made them swear.

Hal spent months ensuring that, should he slip, they wouldn’t be able to let him go. 

**

Hal reaches down and plucks Tom’s shirt from the floor, folds it over his arm. Tom shouts and doubles over in pain.

“There is no danger,” Hal says. He tries to keep his voice low, his words slow and soothing. “Alex is here. If you try to attack me, she’ll simply rentaghost us from the room.”

“Oh, you think so?” Alex breathes. “Or I could help Tom get out of here and lock you in, leave you here for good. How does that sound, huh?”

Hal turns to her, shrugs as though he’s actually considering her words. “I suppose it wouldn’t matter, would it, a werewolf running loose? What’s a few more deaths? And if one of the humans gets him, perhaps you can follow Tom through his door, finally see how that turns out.”

“Hal,” Alex warns.

Hal turns his attention back to Tom. Tom still has his back turned toward them and the scars that fan across it look angry and red even after all of these years. Usually the mark of a werewolf appears random, ill-placed and ugly, but not on Tom. Without those scars in the Devil’s prison, Tom looked unfinished, less than whole. 

Tom’s sweating and the red smudge of blood is no longer visible at his neck, though Hal imagines he could still taste it on Tom’s skin. 

“He won’t kill me.”

Tom growls and then turns and rushes at Hal. He pushes Hal up against the wall, face twisted and teeth bared. His hands come up around Hal’s neck and Hal thinks for a moment that Tom might break it, leave Hal there on the floor, temporarily unconscious and immobilized just before Tom’s transformation.

Tom doesn’t snap Hal’s neck. He stares at him for a long moment, sneers and snarls, and then his grip loosens, and his hands fall away. He presses his forehead to Hal’s shoulder and then he falls back, screams, his hands on his knees as he gasps and pants. He’s sweating, drooling and spitting. The points of the wolf’s nails push through the skin at the ends of Tom’s fingers to dig into the fabric of his trousers. He should have his trousers off by now. The transformation will tear them to shreds.

“Listen,” Hal says. He reaches for Tom, his hand on Tom’s face. Tom spits onto the floor and there’s blood in it. Hal needs to get back before he’s burned, but not before he finishes this. He turns Tom’s face toward him, makes sure to look Tom right in the yellows of his eyes. “I trust you. Do you understand? You won’t kill me. You’re strong enough to do this. I trust you.”

“Get back,” Tom whispers through a mouth packed with sharp teeth. 

**

How many dogfights has Hal orchestrated over the years? He’s lost count. He’s lost count of the number of werewolf transformations he’s witnessed, watched with anticipation, eager for the fear and the fight and the rage of the wolf. 

He feels it now, the beat of his slow slow heart coming just that much faster than it was a moment before. Tom screams and when his bones snap, the sound is audible. Hal flinches. Alex gasps and holds tight to his arm.

“Wait,” Hal says. He’s watched this so many times, standing safe on the outside of a cage, but he’s never seen this. He’s never stood by and watched as _Tom_ bent and twisted, nails gouging lines into the concrete floor.

“Just wait,” Hal breathes.

**

The sound of the wolf’s howl bounces on the walls and echoes in the room. Hal covers his ears, closes his eyes, and when he opens them, Tom is staring right at him, lips pulled back, teeth bared, snarling.

**

His breath is hot and damp on Hal’s face. Spittle drips from Tom’s jaw and lands on Hal’s arm, right below the spot where Alex’s fingers attempt to dig into his skin, failing only because she isn’t solid, she isn’t all there. 

“Hal,” she whispers.

He slowly shakes his head. 

“Tom,” Hal says. “It’s me. It’s Hal and Alex. You recognize us, don’t you?”

Tom snarls and then lashes out, swiping at the wall right above Hal’s shoulder, splinters of wood raining down onto Hal’s shirt. And then the world goes black for just a moment, a howling screaming sound – worse than the howl of the wolf – fills Hal’s head, and he’s on the floor on the other side of the wall. 

“No!” Hal shouts. He scrambles to his feet, pulls at the knob of the door.

Tom throws himself against the other side and it shakes, but it holds. He growls and claws and digs at the floor.

Hal turns to grip Alex by the shoulders.

“What do you think you’re doing?!” he shouts and his voice sounds high to his own ears, angry and desperate and pathetic.

“He was going to kill you!” Alex shouts back. Her eyes are wide and her voice panicked.

“Get us back in there,” Hal insists, shaking Alex. Alex pushes him back.

“No way! I’m not going to stand there and watch Tom rip you apart! How am I supposed to do this? What do I say to Tom when he wakes up and finds you torn to shreds? You’re fucking crazy if you think I’m –”

“Alex!”

She stops talking.

Hal takes a deep breath, tries to calm down. He reaches for Alex again, but this time his grip is light and loose. He lets his head drop for a moment, just a moment, and then he looks up at her, stares until she looks back and holds his gaze. 

“You really believe he won’t kill you, don’t you?” she asks.

“I really do believe that,” Hal confirms.

They stare at each other, listen to Tom rage and thrash on the other side of the wall.

Finally Alex nods, squeezes her eyes shut. 

“All right. All right, fine. We’ll try it again.”

She threads her fingers with his, holds his hand, friendlier, more intimate than they’ve been since they were human together. She holds tight to his hand and in a flash they’re back in the room. It takes a moment before Tom feels the change, smells Hal in the air, and turns his attention away from the door.

He comes at them fast and they back up until their backs are pressed flat against the far wall.

“It’s okay,” Hal says. He says it for Alex and Tom and for himself.

Tom shifts on his feet, teeth bared and chest pushed out. Hal’s seen dozens of werewolf attacks. Sometimes it’s over right away, no hesitation, just claws and teeth and blood spilling onto the floor. Sometimes it starts like this, the wolf taking it all in before it strikes. Hal holds up his free hand, palm out, as though he’ll be able to use it to fend Tom off. Alex is still there though, still holding his other hand. All he has to do is ask and he’ll be gone from here, safe. It’s so fast, rentaghosting; instantaneous. They can wait until the very last second, until Tom’s claws are centimeters from tearing off Hal’s face. They have time. They just have to wait and see what will happen.

No one moves. Tom shifts and growls, but he doesn’t come closer, and he doesn’t try to strike.

“Okay,” Hal says. His arm slowly starts to fall back to his side. “Okay.”

“What now?” Alex asks beside him. 

Hal shakes his head and then begins to slide down the wall. The surface is uneven, scratched up by Tom’s nails, and it catches and pulls at the back of his shirt. He ignores it, sliding down, his legs folding until he’s sitting on the floor. Alex stands beside him, her hand still holding his. She seems confused for a moment, and then she sits with him and together they look up at Tom.

Tom stands over them, snarling and drooling, chest heaving and hands clenching. 

“Look at him,” Hal says. 

“What?”

“Just do it,” Hal says. It might be terrible advice. Tom might see it as a threat, as a challenge, but Hal’s gut says it’s the right route to take here. This monster standing over them is Tom, and Tom wouldn’t want them hurt. 

Hal stares up at Tom, stares right at him, holds his gaze like he did Alex’s on the other side of that wall. Tom gnashes his teeth, but he still doesn’t move. 

“Tom,” Hal says. 

Alex follows his lead. “Tom, can you hear us?”

Tom steps toward them and Hal braces himself. Alex tightens her grip on Hal’s hand. Tom moves in close, his face close to theirs, his eyes bright and foreign, and then, after a moment, Tom huffs and turns, rushes across the room and resumes throwing himself against the door. Hal sighs and his head falls back, hitting hard against the wall, and then finally, he smiles.

** 

“Do you see him?” Hal asks Alex. They’ve been in here for hours, watching as Tom throws himself at walls, growls in their faces, paces the perimeter and sniffs at the door. Twice he rushes at them, coming fast and then stopping at the last moment and turning away. The last time was two hours earlier. He seems to have lost interest in them entirely now.

“What?”

“When you look at the wolf now, do you see Tom there?”

“You’re off your fucking trolley, you know that?” Alex snaps, her voice low. She’s been growing angrier as her fear subsides.

“Think about it,” Hal says. “He’s been transforming into this beast for twenty-two years, his entire life. This wolf was a puppy once, an adolescent, a teenager, and now this. Does that make a difference, do you think? Is it different for a werewolf to start out as a pup? Are those twenty-two years longer than forty years for a man scratched in his prime?”

“I don’t know,” Alex says. “Jesus, Hal. How long have you been planning this?”

Hal shakes his head, watches Tom pace the room.

“What is the point of it?” Alex presses. “What are you trying to prove?”

“You think you’ve failed, don’t you?” Hal asks, changing the subject. He turns his head to look at her.

“Of course we failed,” Alex says with a snort. “Have you bothered to look outside lately?”

“I mean with me,” Hal clarifies. “You think you’ve failed with me.” 

Alex shakes her head and turns away from him.

Alex isn’t like Leo or Annie. She signed onto this before she knew what she was really getting into. One moment she was chatting him up, the next she was dead and then one large explosion later, she had a detoxing vampire on her hands. She claimed responsibility for him too soon. She tied herself to his success. You need something to stay good for, they said, and that something is us.

“Of course we failed,” Alex mutters.

“You didn’t.”

Alex laughs. Tom turns to look at them and they stiffen and brace, wait for him to lunge. He doesn’t come at them though, turns back to the door with a grunt and a growl.

“So you weren’t in an alley killing a man just a few hours ago then?” Alex asks. She shakes her head. “I could have sworn that was you.”

“You think that this is all that I’m capable of?” Hal asks her. “A house full of worthless vampires under my command and the occasional human casualty? This is nothing. It’s nothing because of you. I chose you.”

Alex’s eyes go wide at that. “Really?” she says. “That’s what this? You chose us? Forcing us to put up with the vampires and the blood and the death; that’s you choosing us? Well, I guess everything is fine then, isn’t it? Everything’s great. A real success story!”

“Would you rather I chose the Devil?” Hal asks. “Would you rather I help her tear the world to pieces? I could do it. I think I’d enjoy it.” He pauses. “I’m sure that I would.”

Alex is quiet for a moment before she continues. “You think she’d have you? I imagine she might chew you up and spit you right back out.”

Hal smiles. “Touché.”

“Is that what you’d do if we left you?” Alex says. This is the first time she’s admitted that she’s really seriously been thinking about it. “Would you show us what you’re capable of then?”

“I don’t know,” Hal says, and it feels like the truth.

Alex nods. “Yeah, everything’s just great.”

**

They’re in the early hours of the morning, the last hours before the sun rises, and Tom is finally winding down, moving slowly as he sniffs the corners, returning again and again to the crack beneath the door. He comes back toward them, leans over them, his mouth close to Hal’s ear for just a moment before he moves on to something else. 

Finally, he collapses onto the floor with a groan, his back toward them, and they sit there and watch the rise and fall of his chest. Hal reaches for Tom’s coat, bunches it up and stuffs it behind his head, a makeshift pillow. 

He falls in and out of sleep. Eventually he feels Alex move against him and then away and he opens his eyes to find her standing over Tom, chewing at the tip of her finger. As he watches, she crouches down, carefully brushes her fingers across the edges of the wolf’s fur. Tom doesn’t move and she tries it again, this time pressing her hand further into the fur. 

Hal shifts, tries to get more comfortable, and Alex starts, looks up at him and glares. She stands, but she doesn’t move away from Tom.

“You’re an arsehole,” she says. “He was terrified that he might kill you.”

“He didn’t,” Hal returns. “I was right.”

“So what? What’s your point? Didn’t you already know that Tom wasn’t prepared to kill you? Didn’t you know that I wouldn’t allow it to happen? This is like – it’s like a fucking forced declaration of love, isn’t it? You’ve proven your point, Hal. You’re in charge. We aren’t going anywhere, are we? You’ve got us wrapped around your crooked little finger.”

He doesn’t have them, not yet, but he’s almost there.

Tom twitches and then there’s an audible cracking sound.

“What was that?” Alex asks, staring down at Tom.

“He’s changing back. They usually sleep through the second transformation. It’s a small mercy, I suppose.”

Tom’s body jerks and shifts. His torso curls in toward his knees and then his legs kick back out. His joints crack and snap and change, until he’s just Tom again, pink and hairless, naked on the floor of the cellar.

“Jesus,” Alex breathes when it’s all over. Hal tosses her Tom’s coat and she uses it to carefully cover Tom’s form. Tom’s back is still exposed though and Hal stares at that fan of scratches and scars.

Tom sleeps for another hour with Alex at his side, and then finally he begins to stir.

“Alex?” he asks, his voice groggy. She smiles. He wipes a hand across his face and then pushes up on his elbow, groaning. “What are you – Shit, did I – where’s Hal?”

“Right here,” Hal says, pushing himself away from the wall and moving toward Tom.

Tom turns fast, looks Hal up and down and then begins to scramble to his knees. 

“I thought I’d killed ya,” Tom admits as he crawls closer to Hal.

“You probably should have,” Alex mutters, but it isn’t genuine. The night has taught Hal a few things about Alex as well as about Tom.

Tom reaches for Hal, grabs him, and when Hal lets Tom, when he moves in close at the insistence of Tom’s hands, Tom responds by kissing Hal. Tom stinks of wolf and human and Hal, surprised, turns his face away, but Tom is persistent, his hands twisting into Hal's shirt.

"Fuck," Alex says. It's exactly the incentive that Hal needs and he reaches up, turns his face back into Tom’s kiss, and takes Tom's mouth with his, thorough and filthy and nearly as desperate as Tom. 

Alex stands and turns away from them, moves toward the other side of the room, shakes her head in disapproval as Hal kisses Tom’s mouth, sucks at his neck and the skin of his shoulder. Tom’s coated in dust and dirt from the floor of the room. It's smeared across his skin and Hal can taste it on his tongue: dog and dirt and the salt of Tom's sweat. Tom tastes a bit metallic, like blood, and for a moment Hal worries – he's never done this with a werewolf directly following a transformation before – but he sucks at Tom's skin and it doesn't burn his tongue.

Tom presses up against him, gets so close that he’s straddling Hal’s knees, his body pushed as tight to Hal’s as he can manage. His open mouth is pressed to Hal’s shoulder and as he breathes, panting, he leaves a damp mark on the fabric of Hal’s shirt. Hal presses kisses to Tom’s neck, runs his fingers over the raised lines of the scars that fan out across Tom’s skin, and then presses the palm of his hand low on Tom’s back, pushes Tom against him so that Tom grunts in surprise and follows it up with a beautifully indecent little moan.

“Fuck”, Alex curses again, and Hal smiles against Tom's skin, knows now that he's won Tom for good. 

Alex seems to think that's his only reason. She seems to think he's trying to tie them to him as many ways as he can find, that he's doing this so that they'll let him get away with anything, with everything. Perhaps he is, but he wants it too. He's wanted this before he knew what to do with it. He'd thought about it before Alex ever walked into that corner café. He never would have done anything about it then. He was a coward, afraid of anything that might upset the delicate balance of his life. He respected Tom too much, and he wanted what was best for him.

Hal isn't what's best for Tom, but Hal no longer cares what's best. He only cares that he wants this and that Tom is ready to give in. Look at him, writhing against Hal, beneath Hal's hands and his mouth.

Leo never would have stood for this. Leo never would have allowed it to get this far. Leo never seemed quite as alone or as desperate as Tom.

“I thought I’d killed ya,” Tom murmurs again, and Hal grips his shoulders, pushes Tom back just far enough that he can kiss Tom’s mouth, working it open and sucking at Tom’s tongue. 

“We’re neglecting Alex,” Hal whispers, his lips brushing against Tom’s skin as he speaks. He moves to untangle Tom and Tom hesitates at first, but eventually gives in and lets Hal move him, cooperating as Hal turns Tom toward Alex until he’s on display, his back against Hal’s chest, his dirty knees bent and his cock neglected and erect.

Hal kisses Tom, wraps an arm tight across Tom’s chest holding Tom close, and then he begins to slide his other hand down. The muscles of Tom’s stomach flutter beneath Hal’s fingers before Hal’s hand moves lower to wrap around Tom’s cock. Tom starts and then gasps and presses back against Hal, his feet pushing down hard against the floor. 

Alex squeezes her eyes shut and looks away.

For one short moment, Hal contemplates letting Alex recoil, letting her remain where she is, upset and uninvolved. Hal can keep this between himself and Tom, keep Tom focused entirely on him. But, no, that won’t do. He needs Alex as well. Tom needs her. They’re strongest together and Hal isn’t finished here until Alex has been won too. 

“Alex,” Tom says, a reverent whisper of a word. He reaches out his hand for her to take. She shakes her head and paces her side of the room, so much like Tom just hours before, and then she sighs and gives in to Tom's beckoning. She kneels beside him on the floor, her hand clasped tight in his. She glares at Hal, refuses to look anywhere else. Hal smiles at her, perhaps a bit too triumphantly, and then leans in to press his lips to Tom’s temple, to speak close to Tom’s ear.

“She doesn’t think this is a good idea,” Hal says. “She doesn’t want you to have this.”

“Oh, fuck off,” Alex mutters. It’s directed toward Hal, but she must worry that Tom won’t understand, because she breaks eye contact with Hal, looks down at Tom’s face instead, takes in the way that Tom reacts to the slide and pull of Hal’s hand. Hal watches the lines of Alex’s face relax, and then she leans in, kisses Tom gently on the mouth.

Alex pulled away from Hal once they escaped the Devil’s dream world, once she decided that Hal had plans and that he meant to pursue them regardless of what Alex and Tom might think. She pulled away from Hal, but not Tom, and now she kisses him as though they’ve been building to this all along, touches Tom’s cheek as though Hal was just a step on her road to this.

“Oh," Tom says, voicing his awe at this new development, this discovery. Tom the romantic. Tom the naive, the kind, the virgin. Tom who looks the other way, who makes exceptions. Tom the accomplice. Tom the corrupt.

He spills over Hal’s hand with a surprised gasp. His hands fumble up to grasp the arm that Hal has wrapped around his chest, his fingers pressing painfully into Hal’s skin. Tom’s heels dig into the floor and he pushes up into Hal’s palm, turns his cheek in toward Alex’s careful touch.

Hal shifts, stretches his legs out on either side of Tom. He’s aroused, has been since Tom started this, and he pulls Tom back against him, slowly rocks himself up against the pressure of Tom’s body. Tom hardly seems to notice, draped over him, exhausted from the transformation and the orgasm.

“Next month we’ll plan for this,” Hal suggests. He wraps his arm tighter around Tom, tries to pull him closer still. “We’ll be prepared. We can’t have Tom tearing apart every pair of trousers he owns, can we?” 

“What do you mean, next month?” Alex asks, her mouth pulling back down into an attractive little frown.

“well, of course, we’ll have to do this again.”

“Why?” Alex presses. Tom is quiet. His fingers curl around Hal’s knee, his eyes on Alex’s face.

“To see how it might progress,” Hal reasons. “Don’t you think Tom might want to discover what he’s truly capable of?”

Tom shifts, presses back against Hal’s erection, and Hal grunts. Tom turns, cranes his neck to look up at Hal. He studies Hal for a long moment and when Hal leans down to kiss him, Tom kisses him back.

“It’s just tempting fate, really, ain’t it?” Tom asks. 

Hal shakes his head. “You’re stronger than you think. You recognize us, Tom. I could see it in your eyes.”

“Could you?” Alex asks.

Hal smiles at her. “Anyway, Alex has stated that she won’t stand by and allow you to hurt me. Perhaps next month, she can try caressing you while you’re still awake. You should have seen her, running her hands over you as you slept like you were her beloved pet.”

Tom turns back toward Alex, but Alex looks away. Hal carefully rocks himself up against Tom. 

This is going to work for them. They’ll try this again next month, and the month after that. And how long might it take? How many times will they have to do this before the wolf starts to listen? Can it learn, he wonders? Can it be trained, trusted? How long will it take Hal to find out?

There is one more step, one more offer to be made to ensure that they’ll stay with him, that they’ll comply and give in to this. Hal clears his throat.

“Perhaps you were right earlier,” Hal says. “Perhaps we ought to get out of here for a while. Give ourselves a break from vampires.”

Alex snorts, shakes her head.

“Or we could stake them all and stay here,” Hal amends. “Just the three of us, alone again.”

Tom grows tight at Hal’s suggestion, shifts again, sliding against Hal’s erection.

“What, just stake all them vampires?” Tom repeats. “The whole house?”

“It’s what you’ve wanted, isn’t it?” Hal asks. “I assumed it was why you’ve been walking around with stakes in your pockets and vials of blood strapped to your chest.”

“Well, yeah, but –”

“You’re really gonna do that?” Alex asks. She’s still suspicious, but she’s interested now too. “Just kill them all?”

“With Tom’s help,” Hal nods. “And yours, if you’re willing.”

“What about Regus?” Alex presses. “And Michaela? They’re your friends, aren’t they?”

“We can warn them,” Hal suggests. “Or we can kill them.”

Tom thinks about it for a moment. “We’ll warn them.”

“All right. We’ll warn them and then we’ll kill the rest.”

“And then what?” Alex asks. “That’s it? We just kill all of your vampires and then what?”

And then they’ll carve out their corner of this new world. Hal, with Tom at his side and Alex at Tom’s. A vampire, a werewolf and a ghost. There really is something about that setup, isn’t there? The Devil’s worst nightmare.

“And then we just, I don’t know,” Tom shrugs. “We just see what happens, I reckon.”

Hal nods. “Yes, we see what happens.”

Alex stares at him. He’s sure she’s going to bring up the blood next, some ridiculous plan, that chair again or something even worse, but if that’s what she’s thinking, she doesn’t put voice to it. She doesn’t say a word about forcing Hal back on the wagon. Ridding the house of vampires appears to be sufficient for now, and finally she nods, pushes herself up from the floor, reaches her hand out to help Tom up as well.

Tom lets her pull him to his feet and then he turns and looks down at Hal, down at himself, standing there stark naked. He runs a hand over his chest and then he shrugs and says, “I reckon I better go wash up.”

Hal nods and comes up off the floor to stand with them. He reaches into the pocket of his trousers and hands Tom the key to the door.

Tom smiles, a bit awkward now, and turns to the door, unlocks it and bounds up the stairs. 

Alex starts to follow him, but she pauses at the base of the stairs and turns back toward Hal.

“So this is it then?” she asks. “This is you choosing us?”

“No,” Hal says. “I’ve told you, I’d already done that.”

Alex thinks this over and then nods. 

“Sometimes you still surprise me,” she admits. She tips her head toward the stairs. “Come on.”

“I’ll be up in a moment,” Hal says. “I’m just gong to –“ he waves his hand to encompass the mess of the room. She presses her lips together, nods once more, and then follows after Tom. 

Hal’s hands are at his trousers before she’s out of sight, unbuttoning, unzipping, and then he’s free and he leans against the wall, presses his head to his forearm, his other hand working himself hard and fast. He can still taste Tom, metallic and filthy and fantastic. He can still see Alex leaning in to delicately place a kiss to Tom’s lips. He can feel the breath of the wolf hot on his neck, see those teeth and feel that fear, and he shudders and bursts, shooting hard against the wall.

His hand works to pull the last waves of pleasure from him, and then his body relaxes, and he can’t help it, he laughs, short and surprising. He turns and leans his back to the wall, surveys the room; Tom’s torn trousers, his coat in a heap at the center of the floor. Hal touches himself absently, his body still twitching in response to the stimulation, to the memory of everything that just occurred between them. A vampire, a werewolf, and a ghost locked together on the night of a full moon.

Hal closes his eyes and he asks the air: “Was it good for you?”


End file.
